Castle Oblivion
by Mirae-no-sekai
Summary: There have been enough stories there after all. Full-length drabble, if that makes any sense... and sort of drafty. Hope you enjoy!


It once wasn't an exactly empty castle. Certainly not named- the first occupant didn't ever get around to naming the training grounds- but there were always voices rushing around. The clicking of shoes, commands and teenaged whines. Cries of victory after a spar, or groans of pain.

A celebration when one of them got the run of the place after making Master and the others set out to the great War. They just capitalized it back then- it sounded epic, the Keyblade War, even if most youngsters weren't entirely sure what was the whole deal- same as they made good on the last hurrahs.

Now, the young man remaining back- he was Eraqus, had picked the name sometime after graduating, from an old legend- he had watched. There had been a pair of young men leaving, his companions, and Eraqus remembers never thinking he'd ever see Yen Sid this far from sober again. Or Xehanort sedately happy, eyes fixed on people instead of some distant horizon. Had seen their Master stride through the tall arch, already in full armor and keyblade morphed into the glider.

They never figured out how that one flew. Looked more like a huge six-legged horse than anything remotely aerodynamic; but then again, their Master had always been eccentric.

They never saw the Master again, struck down in battle under a large heart-shaped moon. Yen Sid had brought the keychain back though. Ritual said it was handed down to the keeper of the Castle, and Eraqus supposed that now it was his proper turn, and that he wouldn't really need to return the place when the elder students returned.

But he had made an even of it anyways. Some sort of farewell and welcome back all in one, all lights burning bright and-

They had received guests. Two youngsters, a boy and a girl, staring around concerned at the sloping staircase and the three men still in a festive mood atop one of the balconies.

"Aqua, you sure you knew how to drive that?"

"We didn't suffer any accidents, didn't we?"

"Of all the times for you to be a girl-"

"Hey!"

"You pick this time. When my brother left off for no good reason."

Now, Xehanort had been the one who'd brought the bickering children to attention. And maybe, Yen Sid had kept up the interest alive- he'd been the oldest, and both of them shared the stories of the young mage picking them up from wherever they'd been based on some fortune-telling- by pointing out that say…

"Come closer. How did you arrive here?"

The girl, a lithe blue-haired thing, is wary of them. As she should, in a way, be. To her credit, she doesn't blink too much while looking at them, arms swinging into some loose sort of defense and-

"Flew. She isn't great, but-"

"Terra! We shouldn't speak to strangers."

"If that is the issue… I am Xehanort, now Keyblade Master and fighter of the War. Terra, was it? Will you tell me what brought you here and the means?"

"Flew. Aqua's siblings had this thing… not showing, 'cos it isn't mine and I'm not bothering… and then my brother left. To some big fight out there. But we ended up here, and if you've seen him, tell us."

"So you came here looking for him."

"I did. Aqua came because I needed the ride and she was able to sneak out the keys. Or I was able to sneak her out while she had the keys. Same thing really."

"It isn't like that Terra. However…"

Xehanort had turned. Gave them one of his personal glances, the ones that foretold a plan in the very near future son of some older reverie. Eraqus mentally braced himself for impending damage control.

"While we may not have seen your brother, I can think of some ways in which we could help you find him. All we need from you is…"

* * *

Eraqus remembers having apprentices had been a pain. At least, when Aqua and Terra were young and not even wielders. Chose to keep their names, since they hadn't been aware of the possibility of change- then again, that might've just been his own insistence on his home world's culture- but that wasn't the point.

They were mildly messy- Terra obviously more so- and overly curious- Aqua more so, at least where magic was concerned- and utterly juvenile. The pair of them. Eraqus had been obliged to chase them off the lake under the hill, safely down one of the chains, out of Xehanort's old rooms (where he still probably kept some experiment gone awry) and as far away as possible from Yen Sid's (before they figured out the char marks didn't quite come close to losing the heat that caused them).

But they'd grown into fine people. They'd still tease each other about being such girls, or boys; would still go spar to fix every single little argument; would grow bored at the same time of Eraqus' old tales about his own apprenticeship.

They'd re-enact them later, of course, Aqua as Yen Sid because she once wore her hair really long. Terra as Xehanort because he was the coolest one, or Eraqus because he was the boss here. And really, really cool (although that was only said when said Master was in earshot).

There had been some frequent reunions, once, until Eraqus got a scar and Xehanort decided that really, blind trust in Light hadn't won them the war. They didn't have a Master to show for it, after all, and the tone was heartless as the other said it. Not a point for him, but Eraqus had caught the barb. Charged, all radiant fury.

They didn't really have more reunions after that. But he had left Ventus- his own apprentice- here after some dreadful mishaps he'd failed to heal.

Again with the monotone. Then again, Eraqus knows that Xehanort had never handled his own healing spells very well, trusting in potions to mend his wounds. So maybe, he hadn't been able to cure Ventus- which, while outlandish, was still within the last slivers of possibility.

And he'd come for the Mark. Asked about his old apprentice, regaled with some joke or two that new ones were hard to find, or how the place he'd staked out had broken out in swarms of darkness.

"Upsetting the balance. You wouldn't want to send your students off to give a more practical Mark, wouldn't you? And help a dear friend?"

"I'll send you a pair of Masters. That will be much better."

"Ah, yes. Such foresight… but be sure to also send Ventus along. I'm sure he'd like to get re-acquainted with his older training grounds, or a climate more fitting to his namesake."

"Reports say-"

"There is no significant danger. Least of all with me there. And both your prize students- they've grown close, haven't they?"

* * *

He should've expected them running away almost simultaneously. Scattered in aims and he never did finish educating Ventus on other world travels.

Eraqus also should've expected them back. Should've expected some resistance when…

When…

He can't say it with feeling. He'd shed tears, was ready to finish the swing across Ventus's chest and sweep Terra's keyblade away. He'd lost two sons there, and a daughter far away in the stars.

He'd lost, he knows, and hopes the knowledge will keep.

He had left the keychain he still keeps- the real one, the one that Yen Sid brought from his Master- besides the thrones, attached to somewhere to give it the shape.

Aqua is bright enough to figure this out. And maybe, in time…

In time, they'll set this right. They don't need much of his guidance anymore.

He feels earth underneath him, solid and embracing, before he finally fades out.

* * *

Aqua returns, Ven cold and asleep at her back. He doesn't weigh much, which scares her. He should weigh- his clothes are heavy, he used to pack away as much food as Terra did even if he always remained tiny, to much joking around the table- but he doesn't.

Or maybe she's grown stronger. Strong as Terra.

He should be here. But he isn't. And Aqua should just be meaning the ruined world, once full of sunshine and the laughter of people. Clash of sparring blades, orders and the sound of friends stargazing. Maybe she is, but she doesn't mean at all the silver-haired man that looked like Terra atop the large plateau under the heart-shaped moon.

The shimmering portal behind her closes and Aqua sighs. She'll have to use the glider out, and she doesn't exactly fancy the eccentric maneuvers she'll require to get out of here. That was Terra's thing, as he so often reminded her before; or Ven's, because he'd consistently beat them at the races they'd hold when they had the time.

The doors aren't ajar, but Aqua uses spells to open them without dropping the young person on her back. Strides surely forwards, silently grateful that the throne room isn't overly destroyed. Not untouched- she doubts anything is in that state- but safe. Aqua planned on honoring Ven's request as much as possible, and if he'd picked their old world, that was where she'd lay him to rest.

She perches him on a throne, adjusting him for comfort. There is nothing to drape over him, or set his head on. Aqua strokes his hair, like she'd do to tease him when they were younger, and smiles. Weak solace for herself, but it's something. Chest still caught in a steady rise and fall. Eyes flickering under lids; puffs of air.

She sees the key later, still morphed. The chain hanging without corrosion, even if the appearance belies this. Picks it up- Eraqus had explained the full functions of this castle. The way to call twilight in.

Long overdue maybe, with the overcast night outside. There aren't even any stars, and Ven will be saddened at that fact, when he wakes up to starless skies and no coming dawn.

* * *

The ritual is simple.

A lock, sealed. The colors leeching out, into the blinding light, careening around her and the sleeping boy on the middle throne. Capering up the walls, weaving themselves into the emblem she'd crafted for their good-luck charms. Crawling chains floating in front of the walls and now it's safe. Impregnable even, unless one carries this key- the very halls will warp and twist away from the central room- so Aqua can count on Ven being safe. And this place will freeze time's flow, or so Eraqus had said. A bit of the Darkness's power, of the side that maybe, if we're lucky, won't cause harm.

Dusky balance. The room is pristine white, causing Aqua's eyes to water a little after a few minutes. But she has spells to work- one to keep the world from being easily accessible. Another to prevent most action- after the debacle at the Keyblade Graveyard, she isn't risking it again.

The deck in her hands is comfortably like her old techniques, if a bit limited. Some familiar faces stare up from the surfaces, and Aqua idly wonders what would happen were she to call upon, say…

Zack. Or the little blue alien, or Peter. Maybe the girl she met at the Gardens- Ven would like the story, and he'd bite back some of the more Terra comments- or King Mickey. Even if the last one she'd seen moments before leaving again, Aqua is scared. She'd rather not leave Ven alone…

But she does so anyways, the old key held firmly in her grip as she summons a sleek glider and takes off, far away enough from the castle to make it a golden blur in the horizon.

* * *

The next inhabitants aren't people per se.

They look humanoid enough. The young woman makes a show of shrieking in delight, much like a banshee claiming a hunting place. One of the older men of her group chastises her for the noise. Might've scared specimens away.

"Vexen, do you really think the heartless would bother with an empty castle?"

"You do not know it is empty, haven't even carried out a single test for that."

"Oh, that is easy…" A purr, the sharp sting of ozone and magic, a flash step. She is close to sinking a knife in a young man's throat, giggling slightly and singing out a simple demand.

"I'm sure the little bloodhound can't smell a single thing. Can you?"

"Your perfume. Quite cheap, off Port Royal, or maybe you won against Luxord after enough bodily threats. Darkness knows you couldn't manage that without-"

"Oh, what was it?"

"A simple statement. You're obstructing, but if you must know…"

A pause. The woman moves away- it isn't exactly of her own volition, but she knows when to stop the teasing before it loses effect. And there had been a huge man coming close to swinging that huge weapon of his, but that is fixed with a disarming smile.

It doesn't exactly work as intended, but he does drop his focus on her.

"I detect strong protective magic, centered around a location-shielded spot which will block any attempts at closer examination with the current conditions. However, outside of that I cannot sense any presence other than our own or the lesser Nobody scouts."

She laughs before going off to rub her victory in her elder's face and sauntering off to the entrance.

* * *

"I name this place Oblivion."

"Of course Marluxia would pick the pretentious name." That's a low murmur none of them can quite pick out, but is swiftly silenced by some careful application of visibly aimed knives.

"Any reason for that?"

The man opens a portal and makes as if to bow slightly. The gash in Darkness isn't exactly large, but at a motion it slowly disgorges a young girl wearing a light white dress. Blue eyes wide open and all the people present can tell that she can perfectly see the scythe held by the hand furthest from her.

"Hello Naminé. I have the pleasure to present my fellow members of the Organization. Now, before we begin with the lengthy process of introductions, will you demonstrate some of your powers?"

It's an order, despite the calm lilt of the voice. The eyes are steely under auburn hair, and Marluxia has drawn the scythe closer to the girl, wrapping around her back.

* * *

For a moment, they see an ocean roaring soft. Sand crushed beneath black boots, the scent of sea-salt and fruit warm in the branch. Tropical heat dried out and mellowed in crisp scything shadows of palms. A fat globe of a sun beyond hills bedecked in wooden platforms.

It isn't real, edges memory-faint and an overwhelming sense of utopia.

"Dreadfully boring for a hometown. No wonder it was destroyed."

* * *

Not one of them forgets, since the memory isn't theirs. It's another girl's, as the pale young thing in Marluxia's arm has explained in not so many words. But someone did, a void one morning long created in the memoirs, all in the span of a few seconds.

"Now we have gotten the technical aspects finished with, I'll assign the positions-"

"You are the eleventh in rank! As the occupant of the fourth rank-"

"Need I remind you the Superior placed me in charge of this operation?"

Some grumbling that comes close to being dignified breaks the icy silence. There are some questions- mainly about the larger plans, or some oblique requests for research regarding Naminé, or simply wondering out loud when it was going to be set in motions.

The rush of magic, wrapping around figures accustomed to the touch of darkness and warping to some other spot.

* * *

The castle doesn't take to dark magic well. Probably came from most previous occupants being devout to the light, or from its concealed treasure.

It means that the scientists delegated to the basement can't exactly advance much in their mission and naturally turn to dissecting the other's purpose. It means that the lord of the castle can't exert his full powers- but something close enough, certainly- and the nymph has swiftly exhausted most types of entertainment.

It also means fire took well to the place, cheating the rules enough and smiling with fangs bared. But he has people to return to, you see, and he certainly can't let the darkness swallow him up into some lost corner of Oblivion (if that's even the name). And the young boy rushing in with two friends at his heels left quite the ruckus, light snapping up at his command- or something similar to that, light has always loved heroes and their quests- and foes vanquished in his wake.

There aren't any remains. Their scientists will claim, while they can, that Nobodies fade on defeat or to be proper, return to non-existence. Logic, so to speak, since they just shouldn't be.

But the castle maybe speeds up the process a little; maybe it's the effect of a spell once cast by a young woman who didn't expect this outcome. The end result is the same though, so when Sora reaches the top of the castle and his fair lady's hand, he can't even remember those he erased and without requiring her aid.

Naminé makes the offer anyways- she supposes, this should be his choice for once, and it's not like Marluxia would harm her for this at the moment- eyes fixed on his. On the wall behind, because she knows the answer and would rather not actually hear it from his lips.

* * *

At the last farewell, Sora's hands are warm. Rough from hours on days on months on end grasping a blade for dear life, but warm. Naminé holds on for as long as she cares to- which isn't quite long, for normal people, but she isn't that exactly- and watches the petals close around him. Eyes flutter close, the true charm twinkle in the last sliver of actual light.

Again, she sets herself to draw.

* * *

Riku trips up later, wary of every shadow and glaring vitriol. It should be at himself, he thinks, but there aren't many mirrors. And the illusionist is most certainly dead, so it's unlikely that Riku will get to see another impersonation.

He doesn't need to- just an image, and memories serve just as well as any- but he nearly breaks at the end. Friend caught in some sort of crystal flower, image nonsensical in a grave way and Riku does what he always does.

"He's always dozing off, isn't he? Can't believe I'll be picking up his mess. Again."

He turns to the girl who's near-followed him here from the last corridor or so. An apparition in white he recognizes from the almost-drowning in radiance, or the twilit town.

"What is it this time?"

"Memories."

Of course Sora would manage to lose something spectacularly important and a pain to gather. Had to be him, with the heroics and the girl waiting on him.

If Riku didn't know better by now, he'd warn his friend of the incoming hell storm by way of woman scorned.

But Naminé isn't really planning on seeing him again for the foreseeable future. And neither is she planning on remaining in the pristine castle- which Riku readily agrees to, same as the tall, robed man- for any length of time.

"Just… not fond of the place."

He echoes the sentiment, if nothing else to show her how it's done.

* * *

A.N. – happy (belated) birthday CoM~ And yeah, I might've gone tangential here… but hey. Place is pretty developed (as far as video-game stuff goes) and I'm one crazy wannabe author. Very, very crazy…

Anyhow, this is most probably a draft… so, if you people would be so amazingly kind, please leave a review? Comment? Critique? Or however you so choose to name it?

And… well, I'm posting it as fanfic. Part of the definition to that is: it is definitely not mine.

Thanks and hope you guys/gals enjoyed!


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